


Why Making Assumptions Based On Daemons is a Bad Idea

by The_awesome_1



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Oops?, There's a tiny bit of raywood but it's only like one line, This was supposed to be a drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8561566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_awesome_1/pseuds/The_awesome_1
Summary: When they look at Merrick, Geoff knows people assume he is a scavenger, too weak to fight for what he wants unless someone weakens his target first. He lets them, because it's so much easier to get the upper hand when his enemies underestimate him. It'll just be that much sweeter when he takes over this city and they realize their mistake.Or, how the Fake AH Crew might have formed if its members carried their souls on the outside.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read HDM, all you really need to know is that daemons are manifestations of a person's soul that take the form of an animal, usually of the opposite gender. They are able to shapeshift when the person is young, but generally settle into one form when the person is in their early teens.  
> Also known as 'I need to stop making random aus and focus on homework'. This is a bit different from my usual writing style, so I hope it sounds alright. Comment and let me know what you think!

            With Merrick padding at his side, Geoff found that it was easy to make people underestimate him. They looked at his daemon and saw a scavenger, an opportunist. They thought he wouldn’t dare join a fight unless he was guaranteed to win it. He let them think this, because it meant they were forgetting the most important thing about hyenas: they were clever, and oh-so-good at surviving. He would wait for the right moment, and when it came he would strike. Until then, people could continue underestimating him as much as they wanted.

             One day, he would rule over all the people who had looked down on him and Merry. And when he did, they would regret the assumptions they had made.

            The day – night, really – that things began to change, they were in a bar. This wasn’t unusual; he visited this bar at least four times a month. There’s an asshole at the table nearest to him, loudly bragging about his gang’s latest venture. Also not unusual.

            The guy is pretending to be some kind of bigshot, although Geoff knows for a fact that he wasn’t. For one thing, he kept up with the important players in Los Santos, and he is pretty sure this isn’t one of them. For another, anyone who was trying this hard to impress everyone around them was unlikely to be as good as they said they were.

            Saying this out loud, however, was probably not the smartest decision he could have made. He wasn’t small by any means, but Loud Asshole has several inches and what looked like fifty pounds of solid muscle on him, and while his boarhound daemon is smaller than Merry, she’s sturdy and has a nasty-looking set of teeth.

            “You think you could have done better?” Loud Asshole demands.

            He might be a survivor and all that, but he’s also not one to back down from a challenge once he makes it, so he shrugs. “Well, I probably wouldn’t get caught less than a day later because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”

            “What, are you planning on snitching? Maybe you think you’ll get something if you let the LSPD do the hard work for you. Just like your bitch daemon, coming in for scraps after the wolves make the kill.”

            “Wolves and hyenas don’t even live in the same place, stupid,” Geoff says, and leans back just in time to avoid getting his teeth knocked out by a sudden punch.

            The boarhound and Merry are circling each other, growling, and Loud Asshole looks close to snarling like an animal himself. Geoff thinks that maybe, just maybe, he should have backed out of this fight when he had a chance, and sets down his drink to free his hands.

            “You think you’re real smart, huh?”

            “I have my moments,” Geoff says, and tries not to gulp when Loud Asshole cracks his knuckles loudly.

            He manages to hold his own for about half a minute, which he thinks is pretty good in this situation. After that, he’s just backpedaling frantically, trying to block as many blows as he can before they hit him in the face. The boarhound takes advantage of her weight to knock Merry to the ground and pin her, and Loud Asshole shoves him so hard he stumbles back into someone’s table.

            Mumbling an apology, he tries to back around the table, but Merry is still pinned and in the back of his mind he can feel her pain from a lucky scratch the boarhound managed to land. Not wanting to get too much farther away, he tries to circle back around to the wrestling daemons instead.

            Loud Asshole hits him with a solid punch in the cheek, and Geoff feels his elbow knock into the drink of whoever is at the table behind him as he tries to avoid it. Loud Asshole is winding up for another hit when a low, rumbling growl sounds from behind Geoff. He glances toward the source, and although he only risks looking for a moment before he returns his attention to the more pressing threat, in that moment he catches sight of something large and gold.

            There’s a sigh, and the sound of a chair being pushed back. “Really, couldn’t I have one drink without having to deal with some kind of bullshit?”

            A woman with short red hair moves into Geoff’s field of vision, placing herself between him and Loud Asshole, who pauses.

            “What, are you his girlfriend or something? Get outta the way,” the man says. He looks like he regrets his words when a large lion pads up next to the woman, tail swishing threateningly.

            “No, I’m the person whose drink just got knocked over because you want to prove you’re some kind of tough guy,” she snaps back. “Point made, now please kindly fuck off so I can enjoy the rest of my night.”

            Loud Asshole seems to debate with himself for a moment before he lowers his arm and steps back. “You’re lucky you’ve got a woman over here to defend you.”

            He turns to leave, bulldog daemon following, and Geoff sags in relief. He turns to the woman.

            “Thanks for that. Can I buy you a replacement drink or something?”

            “You may,” she says, and holds out a hand. “I’m Jack.”

            “Hilliard,” her daemon introduces himself.

            “I’m Geoff, and this is Merry,” he says. “Mind if I share that drink with you?”

            “Sure, as long as you’re not planning on starting any more fights.”

            “I didn’t start anything,” he insists. “I was just pointing out that if he was as great as he said he was, he wouldn’t be sharing that many details. For all he knows, someone in this bar could have been an informant or something.”

            “That sounds like starting a fight to me,” Jack says as she and Geoff order their drinks and return to her table.

            “If I had a crew, I wouldn’t want idiots like that in it,” Geoff says.

            “Do you think about things like that a lot?”

            “All the time. I’ll get one, one day. It’s just a matter of finding the right people to start out with.”

            “Oh, yeah?” From her indulgent smile, he can tell that she thinks he’s being drunk and stupid.

            “I will,” he says. He leans forward, placing his palms on the table, and lowers his voice slightly, because unlike some people he has some sense. “I could rule this town one day.”

            She tilts her head slightly, scrutinizing him and his serious expression. “I suppose freelance piloting gets a little boring. What would it take to get me into this hypothetical crew of yours?”

           

            And, just like that, Geoff and Merry becomes Geoff and Merry and Jack and Hilliard. Of course, forming a proper crew isn’t that easy; that takes a lot more people and resources. But they aren’t starting from scratch either.

            Geoff has been planning this almost since he first stepped foot in the city, making connections and building up a reputation as a good hire when someone needs a little extra muscle with some brains. With Jack to help him, this process is quickly sped up. Not only is she a skilled pilot, despite her large daemon, she is also almost supernaturally gifted at organizing. With Jack around, things get _done_.

            He finds out, after a few weeks of working together, that she hadn’t been in the city for very long when they first met. When he learns that she’s been living out of a suitcase in one of the motels, he offers her his spare bedroom. There’s more than enough space for them in his apartment, even if Hilliard’s size make things just slightly cramped.

            She accepts, and they fit together so well it feels like fate, or something. It’s comfortably domestic in their little place, watching T.V. on his ratty couch while Hilliard and Merry curl together at their feet, or planning their eventual domination of the city over late-night beers.

            They click so easily that it takes a long time for Geoff to notice how close they’ve really been getting, over weeks that turn into months. They learn how to work with each other, how to adjust for blind spots in a fight or split the workload so everything gets done, how to move around each other as they make breakfast in the morning and when to take their turns in the apartment’s single bathroom.

            When Geoff finally thinks about it, it’s late evening. The T.V. is quietly playing a crappy sitcom. Geoff is half-watching as he checks his email, and Jack is leaning against his side, one hand dangling off the couch and running absently over Hilliard’s fur. Merry is curled between his feet and the couch like a dog, shoulder pressed against Hilliard’s golden-furred side.

            “I love you,” he says absently. It’s not the first time or even the tenth time he’s said something like that. It slips out as easy as a breath, in response to silly jokes and gifts of coffee the morning after a late night, but this feels just a little different. A little deeper.

            “I know you do,” she says. “What brought that on?”

            “Just thinking about how well we work together. Out of everyone I could have had to help me with this crazy plan, I’m glad it was you.”

            She shifts against his shoulder, and when he looks down she’s smiling at him, soft and fond. At their feet, Hilliard makes a content grumbling noise and shifts to curl slightly around Merry. If he or Jack notice that one of his paws is pressing ever so gently against Geoff’s socked feet due to his movement, neither of them say anything.

            Not much changes after that, but the little that does feels like puzzle pieces falling into place. A kiss on the cheek accompanying an offer of morning coffee; a ‘good luck, be safe’ before every job; their demons curled together in a puddle of grey-brown and gold when they sit together in the living room.

 

            Geoff and Merry are on their way back from a meeting with a prospective employer when a young man – little more than a boy, really – bumps into him. The young man mumbles an apology, a British accent obvious in his voice, and hurries away with his hands tucked in the pockets of his ratty hoodie, bird daemon fluttering along behind him.

            It takes him a moment to notice that he’s missing his wallet, but when he does he doesn’t shout or try to run the thief down, since that would likely just result in the thief disappearing. Instead, he quickens his stride, just barely managing to keep the young man in his sights.

            The thief eventually turns around a corner, and when Geoff rounds it as well the young man is rifling through the recently stolen wallet.

            “I was wondering where that got to,” he says, while Merry circles discretely to the other side of the young thief. And he is young; he looks barely old enough to be out of high school.

            The thief startles and looks up. “What do you mean?”

            He gestures to the wallet. “Pretty sure that belongs to me?”

            “No, this is my wallet, sir.” The thief fakes honest confusion so well that Geoff is almost thrown for a moment.

            In that moment, his daemon, which Geoff can see now is a magpie, flies forward and starts squawking and beating her wings at him. The young man takes advantage of the distraction and tries to slip away, only to stop abruptly when he spots Merry, who gives him a toothy grin.

            “Going somewhere?” She asks him, and the thief backs away, pressing into the rough wall behind him, magpie daemon landing on his shoulder.

            “Look, you can have your stuff back, right? I just need the money for lunch,” he says quickly.

            “There’s probably better ways to get money, kid. Have you tried asking your parents?” He holds out his hand for the wallet, and the young man reluctantly passes it over.

            “Can’t do that,” the young man says without offering any explanation.

            Merry is sighing at him, because they both know how this will end. Geoff’s always had a soft spot for strays, after all.

            “In that case, I might have a job opening. Insurance plan is a bit shitty, but the pay’s pretty good and the hours are flexible,” he offers.

            “What kind of job?” The thief asks.

            “Depends. What can you do?”

            “Thieving, obviously. And I’m pretty good with computers,” he offers hesitantly.

            Geoff snaps his fingers. “That’s awesome. We don’t have a computers guy yet. I’ll have to run it by my partner, but there’s no way she can say no. What’s your name, kid?”

            “I’m Gavin. This is Sorcha,” he says, gesturing at his daemon.

            “Nice to meet you. I’m Geoff, this is Merry, and if you stick with us you could rule this city one day,” he says proudly.

            Opening his wallet, he takes out a twenty and one of his business cards, which states simply ‘Geoff Ramsey’ and a phone number, and passes both to Gavin.

            “Text me later, alright? I’ll let you know when you can start.”

 

            Jack rolls her eyes when he mentions their new hire, predicting that he won’t even text, that he was just a bored kid who didn’t even need the money. He does text, however, and Geoff invites him over as soon as he can to talk about their plans just to show her that he was right (like he always is, of course).

            She changes her tune the moment she sees him. His messy hair and skinny frame reach down somewhere deep into Jack’s personality to trip the switch marked ‘Mom Mode’. She and Hilliard dote on him and his little daemon, and it’s not long before the apartment gets another occupant.

            While it had been cramped before, it now feels ridiculously small. Gavin’s daemon might not take up as much space as Jack’s and Geoff’s, but he more than makes up for it. He’s loud, tripping over his own feet and squawking like a bird at the slightest provocation, and spends half an hour in the bathroom every morning, doing up his hair.

            He fits, somehow, just like Jack had. Their jobs are easier and cheaper, now that they have their own hacker and don’t have to rely on any random provided by their employer or hired for that one job, and he quickly proves that he’s as good at making connections as he is at getting into secure databases. The bathroom becomes even more chaotic, hair products scattered next to first aid supplies and Jack’s makeup, while the rest of the apartment is slowly colonized by random stolen objects. Gavin is a lot like his daemon, in that regard: if it shines, he wants it, and he’s constantly bringing them gifts like a cat bringing home dead mice to show affection.

            Geoff uses the proceeds from one of their jobs to buy an Xbox, and game nights become a common occurrence, filled with good-natured shouting and lots of bevs. He’ll sit in the middle of the couch, Gavin shoving against him on one side while Jack leans against the other arm of the couch, legs draped across Geoff’s lap.

            But despite how easily they fit, it’s not always comfortable with that many people and their daemons in an apartment really built for one person. So they start taking bigger jobs, sometimes choosing other minor crews as their targets and sometimes getting assignments from one of their new contacts, and they save up.

            The new place is nothing fancy – a cheap three-bedroom in a neighborhood that could, generously, be referred to as ‘not the bad part of town’ – but it’s theirs, bought with money that _their crew_ earned, and Geoff couldn’t be happier.

            Sometime during the move Jack’s things end up in his room, but by this point that only seems natural. Gavin appropriates the office for his computer room, filling it up with a variety of electronics that he cobbles together himself, and the house gradually becomes home.

 

            “We need a crew name,” Jack says during one of their game nights.

            “Achievement Hunters,” Geoff jokes, because they’ve spent the past few hours trying to get a Halo achievement, and at two in the morning anything seems funny.

            “Trying to level up the crew, it’s like hunting fake achievements, innit?” Gavin says. He’s got his legs kicked over the back of the couch, and Sorcha appears to be trying to nest in his hair.

            “Level up? What is this, a video game?” Geoff snickers.

            “I don’t know, I kind of like it,” says Jack, who’s had more than a few bevs herself. “We could be the Fake AH Crew.”

            It’s one of those conversations that gets half-forgotten in the morning, and at the time he pays it hardly any mind. In fact, he doesn’t actually remember that it until he notices that one of the emails on Gavin’s computer a few days later is addressed to ‘the Fake AH Crew’. When he points it out, Gavin gives a nervous kind of laugh.

            “Well, we need to be called something, don’t we?” He shrugs. “That’s as good as any name we’re likely to think up.”

            Geoff supposes it is. So, from then on, they’re the Fake AH Crew.

 

            They first hear the names Mogar and Brownman in passing, a mention during a bigger story. The two of them are a mercenary team from the East Coast, apparently, one of the biggest new contenders among the Los Santos underworld, next to the Fake AH Crew. It’s likely that they’ll be scooped up by one the Fakes’ rivals sooner or later, so Geoff decides to beat them to the punch and calls a meeting with the two.

            Jack accompanies him, while Gavin stays home to monitor security cameras at their chosen venue (a mostly unknown burger joint, pretty much empty at this time of day) to watch for any signs of double crossing. Not that it’s likely there will be any; the Fakes really aren’t big enough yet to warrant that, and the two mercenaries have no reason to have a particular grudge against them. But it pays to be prepared.

            Mogar and Brownman are both young, about Gavin’s age. Going by appearances, Mogar seems to be the biggest threat, a loud young man with a leather jacket and an enormous grizzly bear daemon by his side. Brownman, in contrast, almost fades into the background despite his bright purple hoodie. His daemon isn’t visible at the moment, but the lump at the front of his hoodie suggests that it is small enough to be hidden easily.

            But Geoff has no doubt that both of them could be equally dangerous, so he treads carefully at first while he feels them out. Fortunately, they’re very amenable to the idea of working together, so he invites them to come along on the crew’s next job, a hit on a rival gang’s warehouse, to see how they work together.

            It’s…an experience, to say the least. On paper, it went great. The warehouse went down in flames by the end of the night, and the five of them covered each other’s backs like they’d been working together for years. Speaking from the point of view of someone who was there, it was something else. From the moment Gavin and Mogar laid eyes on each other, they’d gotten along like a house on fire. They’d hit it off so fast that no one really knew how to react, and Brownman is quick to join his partner in being taken in by Gavin’s charm. The entire night, the coms were busy with banter and shouts of laughter, and it was a wonder they managed to sneak anywhere.

            The presence of three large daemons made organizing the getaway a little difficult, but Jack had been able to acquire a van the night before. Hilliard, Merry, and Mogar’s daemon Eferhilda piled into the back together, while Gavin rode in the passenger seat with Sorcha on his shoulder and Brownman held his rabbit daemon, Celine, in his lap, sitting between Geoff and Mogar in the back.

            “Well, that was fun,” Brownman says when they all pile out of the car. “When are we doing that again?”

            Geoff glances between Jack and Gavin, and they nod, so he passes one of his cards – now including the Fake AH logo – to Mogar, who’s standing closest. “Feel free to call any time. We’d be happy to have you on full time.”

            Mogar nods. “If we’re going to be working together more often, you might as well call me Michael.”

            “We’re doing introductions now? I’m Ray,” Brownman says.

When they part ways, the crew has grown by two more members.

Ray and Michael don’t move in like Gavin and Jack did. They have their own place, elsewhere in the city, and they like their privacy. But they go from showing up only to the business meetings, to becoming common fixtures for Saturday game nights, to leaving toothbrushes in the bathroom and clothes in the spare bedroom. Once or twice, Geoff wakes up to find out that Ray has let himself in and raided the fridge while they were asleep, which would be worrying with anyone else. But it’s Ray, so he does nothing more than laugh and threaten to change the locks is he doesn’t start paying rent.

           

            Slowly, the Fake AH Crew goes from being a group of upstart newcomers to a name that inspires, if not fear, then at least professional wariness and some manner of respect. They take out one of their biggest competitors, almost doubling their territory in one swoop, and soon afterwards Geoff starts hearing _rumors_ about them, about how they will take out anyone in their way with ruthless efficiency, and about the individual members of their crew as well.

He hears that the crew’s frontman could charm you into anything and you’d never know you were tricked, that Ramsey’s second would hunt down anyone who hurt her crew, fierce as her lion daemon (and yes, that one might actually be true). Mogar and Brownman have their own reputations, which only grow as the crew continues to rise. And the leader of the Fakes? They said he was anything from a criminal genius, to a ruthless tyrant, to a useless drunk controlled by his second (or his frontman, depending on the story). Geoff gets a little thrill of pride every time he hears one of these stories.

Their first really big heist is aimed at one of the smaller banks in Los Santos, and it goes beautifully. By the time the police gets there they are long gone, leaving behind only their symbol messily spray-painted on the wall of the empty vault and half a dozen frightened hostages.

That’s the first time one of their heists makes it onto the evening news. The moment Geoff hears it mentioned, he pauses the T.V. and hollers at the top of his lungs for everyone to get in there _right fucking now_. Everyone had been scattered around the house, Michael and Ray unwilling to go home just yet, and they come running when they hear his shout.

They watch the story together, all crammed together onto the couch, the smaller daemons perched on their humans and the larger ones sprawled in various locations around the room. The reporter talks about how none of the criminals responsible have been caught and how this might correlate to recent activity from a new crew. Then it cuts to shaky cellphone footage, although Geoff hadn’t noticed anyone recording at the time.

When they come on screen, the room erupts into shouts and cheers from humans and daemons both.

“That’s _us_ , boi!” Michael shouts triumphantly, reaching across Ray to high-five Gavin, who’s tucked into one corner of the couch.

Geoff watches Jack and Michael prowl the room, guns out, menacing in their cheap plastic masks with their daemons huge and fierce at their sides, watches himself and Gavin stride in with matching masks on and bags full of money over their shoulders, and feels a rush of pride.

When the brief report ends, Michael gets up and heads for the kitchen, saying something about celebratory bevs. For his part, Geoff celebrates by catching Jack by the shoulders and finally, finally giving her a proper kiss. They’ve been something for several months now, have shared dozens of kisses on cheeks; they sleep in the same bed, even, but this is the first time they’ve really kissed. In a distant corner of his mind, he can feel Merry and Hilliard pressing as close together as their humans are, nuzzling into each other’s fur.

The moment is broken up by a wolf whistle from Ray, and Geoff pulls back with what he knows is a goofy smile plastered across his face. He can’t find it in himself to care, though, not when Jack is looking at him with pleased surprise and he can still feel the pressure of her lips on his.

 

The knowledge of the infamy they are gaining for themselves only pushes the crew to do better. Geoff promised them that they would rule this city, and they will not settle for anything less. Every heist they pull of is more daring, every target bigger. They settle into the roles they are building for themselves, expensive suits and Hawaiian shirts and hair styled into a pretentious mess. Gavin comes home one day with a pair of aviators edged in what looks like real gold, and laughs when Geoff asked if he had payed for them or not.

People come to _them_ for jobs now, negotiate with _him_ when they want to operate on his turf, rather than the other way around. Their support network, affectionately called the B-Team, spreads across the city. Ramsey has eyes everywhere, someone in every branch of the city’s infrastructure both legitimate and not, people say. Geoff knows that they are right, and he revels in it.

The media continues to track their rise with a helpless mix of fear and admiration. The crew watches every broadcast. It becomes almost a tradition; when the news comes on, Geoff will call everyone into the living room if they are in the house, or text them to turn on the news if they are not.

He buys a penthouse in the center of the city with the money they’ve gathered, to serve as their official base. Standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows that night, looking out at the glittering lights of the city, he feels like a king overlooking his kingdom.

They keep the old house as a safehouse, and sometimes one of them will spend a night there when they need a break, but mainly Jack, Gavin, and Geoff stay at the penthouse because what’s the point of dropping that much money on a place if they’re not going to stay there? Michael and Ray keep their old place, too, but use it less and less. Staying the night after a heist celebration runs late turns into sleeping there more often than they sleep in their real house. And if Geoff just happened to buy a place with plenty of empty bedrooms, well, that’s just a convenient accident.

 

Someone is killing their enemies.

The first time it seems like coincidence; another crew has been encroaching on their territory, and when Geoff takes Michael to go pay them a visit, the other base is full of dead bodies. It looks like any other gang conflict, although they can’t find any marks to signify who the other party in the conflict was. They call it a fluke, torch the place because they have to do something while they’re there, and leave.

When it happens a second time, Geoff starts getting suspicious. That’s also when whoever is doing the killing starts making their presence more obvious. Their mystery killer has drawn a rough approximation of the crew’s symbol on the wall near the bodies of a pair of freelancers who have been working with one of the other crews nearby. It’s a pretty good drawing, actually, considering it’s done with what looks like blood from one of the corpses.

“Ok, what the hell,” he says when he says that.

“It looks like we’ve got an admirer,” Merry replies.

The next one has _With love, V_ scrawled across the wall (in Sharpie this time, thankfully). At the same time, somewhat coincidentally, he starts getting reports from various informers that the Vagabond is in town. There’s an obvious conclusion to be drawn here, but he’s reluctant to draw it, because while they may be getting big he wouldn’t expect someone like the Vagabond to take the slightest interest in them.

It’s not just the fact that the guy is pretty much the boogeyman of the criminal world, although that does make him somewhat wary. There’s a thousand horror stories about the guy, some of which directly contradict each other but get told anyway, and him knowing this much about the crew’s affairs is concerning to say the least. But the biggest reason he doesn’t think it’s the Vagabond is the fact that the mercenary is a notorious lone wolf. He’ll take jobs, if they pay enough, but Geoff hasn’t heard of him deliberately seeking out a crew before.

Then Geoff answers a knock at the door one day to find a grinning black skull staring at him, and he damn near shits himself. At his side, Merry is growling at the newcomer, hackles raised. Geoff fumbles for his gun, but the Vagabond – it must be him, no one would dare impersonate the guy if they wanted to live – raises his hands quickly.

“I come in peace,” he says, sounding somewhat amused. “I’m looking for a job, actually.”

Merry subsides, and Geoff slowly draws his hand away from his gun. “Alright, let’s talk,” he says, because insulting the Vagabond is pretty much the last thing he wants to do. And, all that scary shit aside, he’d be a fool to pass up having one of the biggest names in the business on the side of the Fake AH Crew.

He can’t see a daemon when the man steps inside, but there are plenty of creatures small enough to be tucked inside that leather jacket. Rumors that the Vagabond has no daemon at all are forcefully pushed out of his mind.

When he walks into the living room with the Vagabond following him like the Grim Reaper come over for tea, Gavin drops the glass he’s holding. The noise of shattering glass is almost covered by Sorcha’s surprised shout.

Gavin quickly recovers, muttering something about a dustpan before almost running into the kitchen.

“Tell me that’s not the actual Vagabond,” Geoff hears Sorcha say as the two leave. “The Vagabond is _standing in our living room_.”

“So you’re the one that’s been leaving the messages around,” Geoff says. It’s not really a question.

Vagabond looks after Gavin before turning back to face him, and when he speaks it’s impossible to tell what he thinks of this reception. “Yep. Did you like them?”

“I do appreciate the help, but that whole blood drawing thing was fucking creepy, dude.”

“Sorry,” Vagabond says. He doesn’t sound very apologetic. “I wanted to get your attention.”

“Have you considered just calling?” Geoff suggests.

The mercenary laughs softly. “I think my way is more fun.”

“If you say so. I was under the impression that you didn’t work with crews much.”

Vagabond shrugs. “I like what I’ve heard about yours, so I thought I’d give it a try. If you’ll have me, that is.”

 “I won’t make any long term promises, but we could use another person for our next heist. If it goes well, we can talk about other arrangements,” Geoff says.

“That’s fair,” Vagabond says. “I’ll be in touch.”

He turns to leave. “With a phone this time, please,” Geoff calls after him.

“Sure thing,” Vagabond replies, and shuts the door softly behind himself. Gavin comes back from the kitchen a moment later with a dustpan and a roll of paper towels, and sets about cleaning up the mess from the broken glass.

“Just wait til the others hear who we talked to today,” Geoff says.

“Geoff, did you see, he didn’t have a daemon Geoff,” Gavin says, staring at the door with wide eyes.

“Of course he had a daemon, Gav. It was probably just hiding in his clothes,” Merry says.

“People say he doesn’t have one,” Gavin insists.

“They also say the two of us are banging,” Geoff points out. “You of all people should know better than to listen to rumors. How many times have you spread stories about the five of us?”

“He didn’t even introduce her.”

“Do you think a guy who goes to that much trouble to hide his identity would go flaunting his daemon around to anyone he met?” Geoff heads to the kitchen himself. “I need a drink after that. It’s too early in the morning to go around getting the shit scared out of me. Want anything?”

“Yes, please,” Gavin says quickly.

 

To say that the others are surprised when they hear about who was responsible for the recent hits is a bit of an understatement. In fact, Ray flat out doesn’t believe Gavin when he tells the story later until Geoff steps in to confirm it. Watching all of them interact with the Vagabond at the planning meeting before the heist is funny enough that he almost forgets that he’s supposed to be scared as well.

            Jack defaults to wary Mom Mode, with an undercurrent of _touch my boys and I’ll stab you with my $500 heels_ , Hilliard swishing his tail as he lays under her chair. Ray does that sniper thing of his where he sort of fades into the background. Although he looks calm, when Geoff passes nearby he notices the tight grip he has on Celine.

Gavin is watching Vagabond with a kind of horrified fascination, asking him questions about the various rumors circulating about his deeds. Jack had looked ready to drag him bodily away from the mercenary when he started this, until she notices that Vagabond is patiently answering each question without a hint of annoyance.

Michael is tense in his chair, Eferhilda standing tall at his side, both of them looking ready to fall back on their usual defense of intimidating any threat until it goes away. He stays civil throughout the meeting, however, and while Vagabond obviously isn’t cowed he also makes no move to escalate the intimidation contest.

There is still no clue as to what his daemon is, a point that Gavin mentions repeatedly after the meeting is over and the mercenary is safely out of earshot. Geoff has given up on trying to talk that particular idea out of Gavin’s head, so he simply rolls his eyes and leaves to check over his equipment one more time. Behind him, he can hear Michael shouting at Gavin that _of course he has a daemon, idiot, he’s hiding his identity_ , although the explosives expert doesn’t even try to disguise the fond tone in his voice as he does so.

 

No one is entirely certain how the cops had managed to catch them by surprise, but they show up almost twice as fast as expected. Ray, watching from a vantage point across the street, manages to give them enough morning that they’re not caught entirely unaware, but they’re still forced to leave behind some of the cash.

The police are already outside by the time the ground crew – Michael, Gavin, Geoff, and Vagabond – make it out of the bank. Jack is waiting with a getaway van at the end of the block, but as luck would have it the cops show up from the same side, cutting off their planned escape route.

“I’m pulling around to the street on the other side of the bank,” Jack shouts over the coms. “Get ready to meet me there.”

They take off running, using the parked cars along the street for cover when the police open fire. Michael is whooping and shouting insults as he fires off shots over the top of his car, calling kill counts back and forth to Gavin as they slowly make their way up the street.

Vagabond, in contrast, is deadly silent as he picks off cops one after another. Several of the cops closest to them beat a hasty retreat when they notice the skull mask; Vagabond’s reputation is well-known to them as well.

            All of them make it to Jack without any real trouble. Ray is already in the passenger seat when the rest climb in, holding his hot pink sniper rifle across his lap while he provides cover with a matching pistol. Michael’s triumphant laughter trails behind them as they make their escape.

 

            Despite the less than stellar ending of his first heist with the crew, Vagabond returns for another job, and another. The crew begins to relax around him, although it takes longer with him than it had with any other crew member. Then again, no other crew member had a reputation that could fill an entire book before they joined, nor did any of the others constantly wear a creepy mask.

            Geoff runs into him in the kitchen, late one night. Once he’s gotten over the shock of seeing the Vagabond dressed in a pair of flannel pajama pants, a faded t-shirt, and the skull mask, he notices something sleek and furry laying across the man’s shoulders.

            Vagabond stands up from the fridge, holding a can of Diet Coke, and notices Geoff. There’s a moment of surprised silence before the mercenary nods a greeting.

            “This is Astrid,” he says, gesturing at his daemon. She’s a stoat, Geoff can see now, soft fur just starting to turn white for the winter despite the fact that winter never truly comes to Los Santos.

            “Pleased to meet you,” she says, and he returns the greeting.

            “Gavin’s convinced you don’t have one, you know,” he adds to Vagabond.

            “Seriously?” Vagabond sounds torn between disbelief and bursting out laughing. “Did he miss the part where I’m a normal, functioning human just because he couldn’t see her?”

            “Well, I wouldn’t say that you’re normal,” Geoff jokes. “But yes, the other two do seem to have escaped his notice.”

            “Wow.” Vagabond pauses for a moment. “Think I should just keep not showing her to him?”

            Geoff shrugs. “Up to you, dude. I’m going to bed after I get a drink.”

            “Goodnight, then.”

Vagabond pushes up his mask, just far enough to reveal his mouth and a bit of blond stubble, and takes a drink from his can of Diet Coke. Geoff stares for a moment before shaking himself out of it and grabbing a cup to fill with water.

“Why are you – oh,” Vagabond says as Geoff wanders over to the sink. “This thing’s kind of inconvenient sometimes,” he adds, like that’s an explanation.

 

            A few days later, Geoff wakes up to a surprised shout from Gavin. It sounds different from the Brit’s usual shouting, which he’s mostly learned to tune out by now, and he’s rolling out of bed and grabbing for a weapon before he’s even fully awake.

            He hurries into the living room, Merry bounding behind him, to see Gavin staring at what he first assumes is a stranger standing in the door to the kitchen. The man has blond hair gathered back into a messy ponytail, and looks kind of like a dad. Then he notices the stoat daemon winding around the man’s legs, and his eyebrows almost hit the ceiling.

            “ _Vagabond?_ ”

            The formerly masked mercenary turns and gives a hesitant sort of wave. “Um, hi? I was getting kind of tired of wearing that mask all the time, so I thought I’d switch it up a bit.”

            Gavin is making incoherent, confused sounds. “You do have a daemon,” he manages finally.

            “Yeah, humans tend to have those,” Vagabond says sarcastically. “Her name is Astrid.”

            Sorcha, who had been flapping nervously around Gavin’s head, now darts over to perch in front of Astrid. The stoat tilts her head before batting a paw at the magpie playfully. Letting out a surprised noise, Sorcha takes off with Astrid in pursuit. A moment later the two daemons are chasing each other happily around the living room.

            All three of the humans stare after them, surprised by the playful display. Merry sits herself down next to Geoff’s feet, as poised as a hyena can be, trying to look like she’d never in a million years engage in that sort of behavior.

            Jack comes in a moment later, looking concerned, although she settles down when she sees that no one is in danger. Then she sees Vagabond, and stops in surprise. “That’s not – is it?”

            “It is!” Gavin exclaims. “We met his daemon and everything, her name’s Astrid.”

            Jack looks at the stoat, still trying to corner Sorcha and being thwarted by the other daemon’s ability to fly.

            “Wow. That’s about the last thing I’d have expected.”

            “What kind of daemon would you expect?” Vagabond asks defensively, frowning.

            “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” Jack says quickly. “I thought something was wrong when Gavin started shouting, that’s all.”

            “What was I supposed to think when some random guy walked out of our kitchen?” Gavin asks.

            “Possibly ‘who is the only person whose face I don’t know that has access to this penthouse’,” Vagabond suggests.

            “I guess I’ll have breakfast now that I’m up,” Jack says. “Anyone else want bacon?”

            The surprise of finding out that the Vagabond looks like he should be living in a suburb somewhere with 2.5 kids, rather than one of the most feared mercenaries in the country, quickly takes a backseat to the promise of bacon, and they all file into the kitchen after her.

Michael wanders in a few minutes later, apparently drawn by the delicious smell of greasy breakfast foods. He seems only half awake, nodding a lazy greeting to Vagabond before tossing himself into a seat next to Gavin. Eferhilda lays down behind his chair and shows off all her teeth as she yawns. The the mercenary’s appearance seems to sink in, and his eyes widen slightly as he looks again.

“So, does this mean you’re actually eating breakfast with us?” He asks, sounding surprisingly nonchalant.

Vagabond blinks. “I suppose so.”

Ray is the last to join them, just as Jack starts passing out plates of bacon and scrambled eggs. He accepts one and sits down next to Vagabond, looking at the man with a confused frown. “Are you new?”

“Not really,” Vagabond replies, mouth quirking into a small smile. “I’ve been here for a couple of months, actually.”

Ray does a double take. “Holy shit, no one told me you were cute.” He claps a hand over his mouth, looking like he would very much like to be somewhere else, then lets it drop again so he can talk. “I mean – fuck, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Vagabond says. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Michael is snickering quietly into his coffee, Gavin is staring at Ray in disbelief, and Jack seems to have suddenly developed a nasty cough. Geoff tries to resist for approximately half a second before he gives in and starts cackling loudly.

 

Daemons create assumptions about people. It’s only natural; when you can see someone’s soul, padding or slithering or flying at their side, you deduce things about them based on its appearance. Sometimes they’re right – Gavin most certainly has the affinity for shiny objects his daemon would suggest, and Jack and Michael are as protective as their daemons. Other times, people look only at the surface and completely miss what’s actually there. They look at Ray and think _harmless_ ; they look at Geoff and think _scavenger_.  

He lets them, because when they underestimate him they are less cautious, not as careful as they should be. When they underestimate him, he has the upper hand. But when they think they can topple him from his throne, when they try to hurt his crew, he makes sure to remind them exactly who they are dealing with.

After all, this particular ‘scavenger’ also happens to rule the entire damn city.

**Author's Note:**

> Daemons:  
> Geoff - Merrick, a striped hyena. Usually called Merry  
> Jack - Hilliard, a lion  
> Ryan - Astrid, a stoat  
> Gavin - Sorcha, a magpie  
> Michael - Eferhilda, a grizzly bear  
> Ray - Celine, a Belgian hare


End file.
